


Little Birds with Broken Wings

by ShadowManShenanigans



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s02e05 Shapes and Colors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 12:55:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowManShenanigans/pseuds/ShadowManShenanigans
Summary: Martin finds out what Priest did to Vogel.





	Little Birds with Broken Wings

The Bofuki Nepoo had partied long into the night, and the Rowdies had partied longer -- until the first rays of dawn’s sunshine trickled through the limbs of the overhanging trees. The feedback loop of _home, family, togetherness_ had been keeping the Rowdies on an unbreakable high, but as the sun began to settle over the grove, its heat found the Rowdies sprawled in the grass in various states of wakefulness.

Gripps snored in a bed of flowers, the neon petals brilliant against the white of his outfit, clashing wonderfully with the garish stripe of red. Cross had his legs propped up on Gripps’ stomach, arms spread in the grass and more flowers slowly sliding from the loose ponytails the Bofuki Nepoo had placed in his hair. Amanda was curled up in the grass beside Martin, the fingers of one hand hooked in the belt loop on his trousers, as if she expected him to disappear if she were to let go of him even for an instant.

But it was Vogel who Martin was watching; his little bird did not sleep easy where he lay at Amanda’s other side,, one hand cradled to his chest and little tastes of _pain_ and _discomfort_ filtering through to the older Rowdy.

“Vogel,” said Martin, voice pitched low, and the youngest of their number jolted awake with a start, wincing when his hand was jostled.

“Martin!” he whispered, slightly too loud but still quiet enough to avoid disturbing Amanda, who snuffled once in her sleep and didn’t wake. “Something the matter?”

“You hurting, Vogel?”

The youngest Rowdy sat up, too slow and careful, and Martin tasted a flare of _pain_ , bright and sharp. “I’m okay,” said Vogel. “Boss said broken fingers heal okay if you don’t try and pick things up all the time.” He glanced at Martin, eyes bright. “You think I can still braid Manda’s hair someday?”

Martin held out his arm and Vogel vaulted over Amanda to tuck himself into Martin’s free side. “Let me see,” said Martin, and Vogel reluctantly held out his hand. Martin tried to be gentle -- his own movements were still stiff, after too long confined to a cage -- but Vogel still winced when Martin peeled back the makeshift bandaging that looked suspiciously like part of Amanda’s ragged shirt.

Two broken fingers, and Martin’s eyes flashed red.

“Osmund Priest,” said Martin, and Vogel nodded.

“He came after us!” said the younger Rowdy. “He- he came in the van, our van, and he tricked me into thinking it was you, and he was wearing your clothes when he got out but it was _him_ and not you, and he caught us and broke my hand and he tried to hurt Amanda and then he tried to kill us and Boss _saved_ us and we ended up here.” The tears were trickling down his face now, streaking the dirt that hadn’t yet been washed away, and Martin carefully rewrapped Vogel’s fingers -- properly this time, so the bones would heal straight -- and pulled him into a hug.

Vogel sobbed, Martin’s shoulder swiftly becoming much damper than it had been, and Martin hugged him close, rocking him gently and tamping down the boiling anger that rose in his chest at the thought of Priest’s devious ploy, of how what Vogel held dear had been used against him in order to bring him pain. “He won’t get to hurt you again,” said Martin, low and dangerous, just for Vogel’s ears. “I’ll kill him first.”

“We’ll eat him right up,” said Amanda, and Martin looked down at her, finding her awake and staring up at him with black-lined eyes -- she looked powerful still, lying in the earth and holding tight to him, as if there were where she was supposed to be. “Next time we see him, he won’t get a chance to hurt any of you.”

“Thanks, Boss,” said Vogel. He sounded stuffy, and he sniffled loudly -- Martin could only guess what was mixed with the tears on the shoulder of his jacket. Snot, probably. “You kept your promise.”

“I did,” said Amanda. “I promised I’d find them, and I did.” She looked up at Martin, and for a moment she didn’t seem to see him at all -- there was only the soft morning light reflected in her eyes. “I found you,” she said, and he felt her fingers curl tighter on his belt loop. “We gotta stay together, Martin. It’s important. I don’t know what’s coming, but I know we need to stay together.”

Martin reached down and closed his fingers around hers, feeling her determination and an overwhelming taste of _love, family, home_ bloom from the touch. More emotions than he had words for, and more than his exhausted mind could bear to parse through. “Rowdy 3 stick together,” he said. She pulled back slightly, and he tasted the tiniest amount of _distress, disappointment, resignation_ \-- he held tight and didn’t let go, leaning down with Vogel still cradled against him and met her eyes. “That means you, too, Drummer Girl. You’re one of us. Don’t you ever think different.”

Amanda smiled, wide and true, and he smiled back, feeling Vogel’s grin from where the younger Rowdy was tucked against his chest, felt the rumbles of Gripps and Cross’s contentment as they slept, and Martin felt whole again. Still exhausted, a little hungry -- all those knights between them, and even the added flavors of Wendimoor couldn’t completely sate the hunger that had gnawed on his bones for more seconds than Gripps could count -- but complete. Amanda at his side and all his Rowdy boys free with him.

“No more cages,” said Amanda, her fingers lacing with his, the belt loop caught between their hands. “No more stupid men pretending to be you, because you’re _here_ and I’m not going to let them take you away again.” Something sparked in her eyes, the same glowing blue electricity that the Rowdy’s so loved to eat, and Martin breathed it in, an explosion of flavors bursting over him. Sure, the Kellum knights had been tasty, their fear adding a delicious twist, but Amanda’s buffet of spicy and sweet and burning, raging _love_ was ambrosia to him.

“No more splitting up, okay?” said Vogel sleepily, his eyes drooping. “Gotta stick tog’ther.”

“Martin,” said Amanda, and he looked to her again. “You need to sleep, too.” She untangled their hands and pulled him down, Vogel tucked at his side and already snoring, and she draped an arm over the both of them and pressed her forehead to Martin’s shoulder, making a face and shifting when her bare skin met the wet remnants of Vogel’s tears. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he said, staring up through the trees at a foreign moon that grinned back down at him, as the sun rose and the Bofuki Nepoo stirred in their huts, and his family close beside him.

Lying there in the grass, feeling Amanda’s slow descent back into the depths of sleep, and listening to Vogel’s muffled, snuffling breaths, Martin swore a vow with the moon as his witness.

Osmund Priest would pay for the pain he had caused Martin’s family. He would pay dearly for every faceful of gas, every starving minute, every hour they had endured at the hands of Blackwing.

And Priest would pay dearly -- oh, the _price_ he would pay -- for Vogel’s two broken fingers.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~That episode was so astoundingly wonderful and there were glorious Rowdy 3 scenes but I'm still upset about a lot of things and one of those things is named Osmund Priest~~
> 
> #letGrippssleep
> 
> This work was Not Edited.


End file.
